


i am scared the apocalypse is three

by swimthewholeriogrande



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Era, Child Abuse, Claustrophobia, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-28 16:27:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16726884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimthewholeriogrande/pseuds/swimthewholeriogrande
Summary: He learns. He's nothing.





	i am scared the apocalypse is three

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Baby Shoes by Bad Books

Crutchie knew he must be dreaming. He had to be, because he left this place behind so long ago, and he couldn't possibly have come back - it wasn't possible. He couldn't let it be possible.

 _It's a dream_ , Crutchie kept telling himself, the chains on his wrist slicing skin, _it's a dream, it's not real, it's -_

"It's real, crip." The hand in his hair was hauling him down the corridor, his damn useless leg dragging in the filth, and Crutchie sobbed and whined. "It's happening."

He was speaking out loud he realised then, but he couldn't find it in him to care much. By the time Snyder had pulled him into his office Crutchie's throat was raw and his shouting had taken on a strangled sort of quality.

"You's gonna regret this." he panted as soon as Snyder deposited him in a heap. "My boys'll be here any minute and they's gonna soak you so hard you's gonna wish you never -"

There was a heavy boot on his bad leg suddenly, grinding into his knee with the older man's full weight behind it, and cutting him off. Crutchie's vision tunnelled; his mouth dropped open but nothing came out, and he felt himself start to spasm, his head jerking back into the floor. A terrible lightning crawled up his body.

"Kelly's clearly taught you his own brand of manners." the warden sneered. He moved his boot to Crutchie's hip and Crutchie half-seized. "You'll learn. He will too."

"You ain't never...gonna get Jack," Crutchie gasped, seeing spots, "he's smarter than you...and so am I." The boot came down on his skull, and that was the last thing he remembered.

-

Crutchie woke up to frigid water being dumped over his head, shockingly cold and making him gasp and shudder. He squinted through the deluge and saw a dark, filthy room, the window covered with an old pinned sheet; Snyder was towering with a still-dripping bucket abandoned behind him. The sight made Crutchie tear up involuntarily.

He was done being brave, his leg stiff and locked from the earlier blows - how much earlier? How long had he been out? Crutchie decided to try humility. "Mister Snyder," he rasped cautiously, shivering, drowned to the skin, "I ain't sure what you want me to d-"

"I want you to shut your mouth." the warden spat. His boots scuffed the dirty ground and Crutchie cringed away as his bone-deep bruises ached. "You're inconsequential. You're nothing. I'm gonna make sure you know that if it's the last thing I ever do."

"Why?" Crutchie asked desperately. "I never did - I haven't ever - why?"

Snyder went down to Crutchie's level like a kind old uncle, sitting on his heels and reaching out to touch Crutchie's face. Crutchie jerked away but Snyder grabbed his jaw, each finger an individual point of pain, and laughed - laughed at him. Crutchie burned red with humiliation but didn't have the energy to pull away.

"Because if you know," Snyder started, his voice soft and poisonous, "then maybe it'll teach those other rats a thing or two. Maybe it'll finally bring your little band of thieves to heel."

Indignation flared and Crutchie knocked Snyder's hand away. "We ain't thieves! We's news-"

And everything was gone again.

-

This time Crutchie finally woke up alone, but it wasn't any better; he tried to sit up and couldn't uncurl from the awkward position he was forced in. There were some sort of walls pressed tight against him, tight and unforgiving, and his breathing started to pick up when he realised he was in some sort of box or crate. A gag was tight around his head, cracking his dry lips, and he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he was going to die in here alone -

He was stuck in this haze when he heard voices outside his tiny prison and the top cracked open. Crutchie let out a growl of confusion and pain through the gag, and Snyder's rough hands dragged him out by the collar, choking and cruel.

"Nice nap?" he sneered. "You gotta stop passing out on me, cripple. No fun there."

Crutchie's knee was locked up against his chest, leaving him unbalanced, and he toppled within seconds. He was so, so sick of being small at Snyder's feet, but all he could do was grunt, arching his back as he tried to get back to his feet without success. "Leave me alone!" he tried to shout, but it came out as an animal sound, and Snyder kicked his hip and rolled him into his back.

"They're not coming for you." His voice was so cold. "Those other rats - they're not coming for a useless cripple."

It wasn't true, Crutchie thought desperately, it wasn't true - his boys would always come for him. They left him at the riot, sure, but they'd come eventually. He wasn't a burden, he wasn't a leech, he wasn't a stupid dumbass lame-legged useless -

_Useless, useless -_

Crutchie's body relaxed into the ground, numb. He blinked and went away for a moment.

_Jack was kneeling in front of him, stroking his hair, dark eyes worried and kind. "Crutch," he breathed, "you poor kid - what can I do -"_

_Crutchie leaned into the first gentle touch in days, tears springing to his eyes. "I'm scared," he gritted out through the gag, "m'scared, Jackie. I need help -"_

_"We's coming, pal, I swear -"_

_"I need help now -"_

"Enough." Snyder dragged him out of the dream again with a kick to his chest, forcing every bit of air and freedom out of Crutchie. "You look at me, dammit!"

"Mmmf!" he shrieked, ribs creaking in protest. "M'st'r Snyd'r -"

"I said look at me!" the older man barked, but Crutchie couldn't bring himself too; one of his ribs gave and cracked and the whole room swam. Snyder took his bad leg and twisted horribly and he wanted to die, he just wanted this to be over.

"What are you?" Snyder asked and Crutchie sobbed, "Nothing, nothing!" And there was finally an end.

-

The crate arrived at the newsboy lodging house at eight a.m and wasn't brought inside till 10; it was assumed that it was a delivery to the wrong address, and it wasn't until one of the boys actually read the lab that they saw Jack's name. Two newsies brought it in, strangely heavy, and set it down in front of him.

"Special delivery." Jack laughed, undoing the latch, "Ain't I -"

His words died in his throat, and in fact he'd never felt less lucky than he did that second. There was a small, curled form crammed into the box, twitching and shaking, a gag stuffed in their mouth and -

"Oh, God," Racetrack whispered behind him, as Jack lifted Crutchie out in a sort of awed horror, "oh, fuck."

Crutchie smelled like stale sweat and vomit and iron. There wasn't an inch of him not bruised or bleeding, and his bad leg - mangled. It was almost poetically twisted. When Jack took out the gag, Crutchie took one look at him and screamed so loud the other boys clapped their hands over their ears.

"M'sorry, sir, m'sorry, nothing, nothing -!" 

Jack reeled, aghast, and almost dropped Crutchie; he laid him on the nearest bunk before things went even further south, and his hands, when he pulled them back, were stained rusted red. "What happened?" he could hear himself asking desperately.

Crutchie's blue eyes were milky and hazed. His struggling slowed out of pure exhaustion. "M'nothing, m'nothing," he rasped, "Mister Snyder, please -"

Jack saw red; he knew Crutchie had been in the Refuge, had been busting his ass trying to think how to break him out, but clearly he'd been too late. Ugly purple handprints all over Crutchie's body spoke clearly of the Spider's less than gentle handling and Jack would kill him for laying a finger on -

But not now. Now Crutchie was sobbing, pleading in front of him, and Jack was at a loss. "Give him some space!" he said quickly, and the other boys scarpered, seemingly eager to leave the horrible sight. Jack didn't blame them.

He knelt down by the side of the bed, beside Crutchie's shivering form, and reached out to touch - his fingers glanced off a sore weeping blood on the side of Crutchie's eye, and the other boy's back arched. "I said it!" he wailed, "I said it, it's enough!"

"It's Jack." he murmured, stroking through Crutchie's matted hair. "It's Jack, pal. You're safe. Christ, what did he do to you?"

The wildness in Crutchie's eyes faded into confusion. "Snyder -?"

"No, he's gone." Jack ran his thumb over a rare patch of skin clear of bruises. "You's in the lodging house. You're safe."

Crutchie's body went limp. He leaned his head into Jack's hand and moaned. "I didn't mean to let him get me. I tried to get away, Jack, I did, but he was real strong -"

"Not your fault." Jack felt his eyes burn. "I shoulda been with you."

Crutchie's head rolled to face him. "M'nothing," he said tiredly, matter-of-factly. "Weren't worth you getting caught."

"You ain't nothing." Jack closed his eyes for a second, feeling tears, and swallowed hard. When he opened them, Crutchie was looking at him with such trust he nearly sobbed his next words. "You's something. You's the bravest kid I know. And I'm gonna take care of you."

Crutchie's face was going slack, his uneven breathing slowing as sleep started to overtake him. "Something." he murmured, and Jack's mouth curled into a smile.

"Yeah." He thumbed the tip of Crutchie's nose affectionately. "Something real special."


End file.
